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Love in the Middle Ages

    Love in the Middle Ages


    Beware Cupid – He’s a Dude Too

    I want to vomit in my mouth.

    I’m at the market attempting to find Valentine’s Day cards for my kids – because Lord knows I won’t have a Valentine, and my kids deserve something nice for putting up with me, my shitty love life, and the accompanying hysteria.

    I sort through hundreds of lame-ass cards: “For My Wife,” “For My Other Half,” “For My Stab-My-Eyes-Out Already.” Finally I find two generic cards to give my children.

    Armed with the four iced-blended mochas it’s going to take for me to effectively stuff my feelings, I make my way home and go directly to Bumble. I refuse to do another Valentine’s Day solo, dammit! I am not going quietly.

    Then I stop myself.

    Now, P. Charlotte, you have procreated with two crap-ass men. Learn from your mistakes. Stop being impulsive. As your five therapists have told you many times, “Put a pause in it.”

    And my inner voice-over is correct: V-day swiping is dangerous, not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for the novice. A divorcee, a widow, a single mom, a post-40 single woman… you can be vulnerable, lonely, and perhaps even despairing at Valentine’s Day. Beginning at the final sweep of New Years’ confetti, you are bombarded by love-cards at the car wash, cherubs at Target, chocolate and flowers and lingerie, oh my! The radio plays a 24-hour loop of John Legend and Adele. Groupon shoves romantic restaurants up your ass, Kay Jewelers shoves diamond commercials down your throat, and mean mommies book spa weekends with their hubbies and ask YOU to baby-sit. After all, YOU won’t have anything to do.

    Listen to me, sisters: Now is not the time to swipe. Put the phone down! Slowly. Hands up. Step away from the online dating!!!

    You “put a pause in it”… and think about what your ex might be buying his new fiancée… who is ten years younger and doesn’t have kids… or a muffin top. You vomit in your mouth a little bit.

    Then you jump for Bumble again.

    STOP! Do NOT Bumble at Valentine’s Day. It will only make things worse.

    Stay with me on this…

    If you are active online, you will notice a pattern: Thursdays at around 3:00 you start getting a lot of action. Dudes are thinking about the weekend. Dudes message you like crazy. “We should grab a drink.” “ What are you up to?” and my favorite, “Wazzup?” Just know that these dudes are sussing you out because THEY WANT TO GET LAID this weekend.

    NOTE: If this is what you want, then go ahead. But do so at your own peril. And as I always say, watch Looking for Mr. Goodbar first.

    If you are not looking to shaboink, resist the excruciating temptation to go out with a Bumble dude. If you must get out of the house, grab that Friday martini with a friend. Better yet, grab that Friday martini and put on Netflix – or as I like to call it, my husband.

    Men who Tinder on Friday afternoons have either been cancelled, or kept their schedules open thinking someone better would come along. Jessica Alba didn’t come along, so said dude is now frantically swiping for some weekend action… knowing we gals would love a weekend date, and are weak at the weekends.

    This phenomenon quadruples on a holiday.

    And on Valentine’s Day, it’s Armageddon.

    There you are – the single mom who imagines cutting off her ring finger as better than suffering a lonely Valentine’s Day.

    The dudes on the other end of your Bumble texts are savvy to this. They know you are vulnerable, amorous, and want that V-day plus one. Conversely, they want your V-gina. Ergo they will woo you with two full days of “checking in” and heart-emoticon texting. Then go in for the kill and ask you out for the big night.

    YOU, in turn, will start to plan your wedding.

    This, in turn, is what will happen on Valentine’s Day:

    – You will meet at pre-determined location.

    – He will be two inches shorter, 20 pounds heavier, and ten years older than stated on profile.

    – He will order beer or water.

    – You will SPLIT an appetizer.

    – He will tell you his ex is “bi-polar.”

    – You will notice he has stinky breath, crud in ear, or a butter stain on his pants.

    – Your mojo will wilt as you become aware of actual, real-life couples in the room.

    – You will watch his lips move, but not hear what he says because you will focus on his rogue eyebrow hair, gack in his ear, or butter stain.

    – You will think about your littles at home (or dog… or cat).

    – Your heart will begin to ache.

    – He will start up the sexual innuendo and lean closer.

    – You will lean away as stinky breath will now be topped off by beer stank.

    – He will attempt to put his hand on yours, or worse, your thigh.

    – Man across the room will propose to his ladylove.

    – Cheers, applause, the POP of champagne to follow.

    – Then you will do it: You actually vomit in your mouth.

    – You will race from the restaurant, beat it home, brush your teeth, delete him from your Bumble, and hug your confused, sleepy children to your padded, push-up bra.

    Then – it’s over. Clock strikes midnight. You survived.

    So save yourself the time, heartache, and vomit-trauma, and do what I do (not as I did): Give your kids a credit card, and have them take you to dinner on Valentine’s Day. They are cuter, sweeter, and smell better than any Bumble dude you will ever meet.

  • Crying face, beautiful P Charlotte sad to not have a romance for the holiday cuffing season..
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